


‘Tis the Sea He Loves

by lightonthesea (crescenttwins)



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ninjas, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Community: cgkinkmemeii, Guns, M/M, Minor Character Death, Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-18 18:46:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/lightonthesea
Summary: It’s a story full of delight and intrigue, because the one who led the fisherman and ultimately claimed them as his crew was none other than a Britannian himself-- and not just any Britannian, but a Britannian prince. A prince turned pirate, a village of fishermen turned defenders, and the ship they stole from under the navy’s nose: the Black Knight.But here is the problem with such a widespread story: Uninvolved people get curious. Like ninjas, for instance.





	‘Tis the Sea He Loves

**Author's Note:**

> At some point there was a pirate!Lelouch/ninja!Suzaku request on cgkinkmemeii, and this has been sitting in my WiPs mostly-complete for an unfortunate amount of time. I'll be starting to finish and post some of these up under this pseud as part of my NaNoWriMo journey, so hope you enjoy!

The smell of gunpowder is thick in the air, and Suzaku pulls Lelouch against him as the crew hurriedly fills their cannon barrels of the Black Knight for the next barrage. He means only to have a word, a moment stolen before Lelouch has to return to the helm of the ship, but the way the other male fits against him is distracting to say in the least.

It helps to clear his head when Lelouch attacks his abdomen with bony elbows, and Suzaku suppresses a wince when a particularly enthusiastic thrust glances off of his solar plexus.

“Release me,” Lelouch commands, words still muffled by Suzaku’s hand. 

“Not yet, Captain,” he whispers into Lelouch’s ear instead. He breathes out hotly in delight when he sees the flush rise on the back of the man’s neck. If he twisted his head he could lay a kiss on Lelouch’s nape, he thinks.

Lelouch bites him.

The sudden pain makes Suzaku’s hand twitch to draw the kunai from his wrist holster, but he forces himself to calm and step away from the other male.

“If you are quite done manhandling me,” Lelouch hisses at him, settling his clothes back into place, “I have a ship to see to.” The flush is high on his face, and the appraising glance he gives Suzaku is not subtle in the least, not even when accompanied by a sneer. 

“As you wish,” Suzaku agrees, still smiling.

“Stay below deck,” Lelouch orders. “If you’re not part of my crew, you don’t belong there.”

Suzaku shrugs, “I could be a part of your crew if you would make me the right offer.”

Lelouch is already halfway up the stairs. Far enough the Suzaku isn’t surprised that he doesn’t receive a response.

“Ninjas,” he hears Lelouch mutter. “On a pirate ship. Ridiculous.”

——

Every ship needs a good origin story. Some tale to spin in the taverns, when the alcohol is flowing freely and the crews mourns their losses to the Britannians. It is as much about reputation as it is about comfort, and the Black Knight’s story has long been woven into the blanket of history, despite their relative youth. 

It’s a wondrous narrative, the story of the Britannian Imperial Navy fought off the Japanese coast by a band of fisherman. It’s a story full of delight and intrigue, because the one who led the fisherman and ultimately claimed them as his crew was none other than a Britannian himself-- and not just any Britannian, but a Britannian  _ prince _ . A prince turned pirate, a village of fishermen turned defenders, and the ship they stole from under the navy’s nose: the Black Knight. 

It’s story enough to draw other crews to them when they dock, for the first round of drinks to be on the house. 

And inevitably, there will be a man with a smart mouth who will look at the women amongst the Black Knight’s crew with scorn. Because  _ women, _ everyone knows, bring bad luck to pirate crews. 

More often, the women laugh in response. Because there is nothing more funny than a dull-witted man who tries to speak down to them as if he is their  _ equal _ . There is no woman on the ship who would lose to such a man. And if he pushes it, wishes to test his skill-- he is no match for the Grey Witch, one of the finest navigators in the eastern seas. He will fall short of the skill with which the Red Queen wields a blade. 

And if it is a pirate who dares to voice such contempt, then. 

Well.

If the man is a pirate, then Lelouch will stand. Now Lelouch is not a tall man, but he is impeccably tailored, shoulders made broader and height made larger by the cut of his coat. And if Lelouch stands, then the crew will watch with glee as their captain tears apart the ignorant speaker with a voice as soft as the sea breeze and just as biting. 

As time passes it happens less and less, because the only thing that pirates spread better than gossip is warning. The Black Knight’s women are capable sailors and equally capable of slitting your throat as any pirate-- and their captain will accept no insult to them.

But here is the problem with such a widespread warning: 

Uninvolved people get curious.

Like ninjas, for instance.

\-----

Knowledge is power, or so they say. So when there was rumor that a band of civilians were fighting against the Britannian Imperial Navy, in direct contradiction of the orders of the Japanese Emperor, the Kururugi clan listened where others mocked.

Everyone said the village would disappear overnight, be swept away from the Japanese officials eyes by the promise of Britannian gold. 

Everyone said that the village were fools, but that they would be an important lesson for the citizens not to rebel. A lesson learned in blood.

And nine months later, when the Britannian Imperial Navy not only failed but lost a ship to the civilians, the officials shouted and meetings were held for many weeks. Of these meetings, Genbu said nothing to Suzaku. There was a smugness in the silence, and a wariness. 

“Investigate them,” Genbu had said, nearly a week later. “If necessary, kill the leader-- whatever it takes to ensure our continued support by the Prime Minister.”

_ Necessary _ was a soft word, one which spoke of judgment on a man who existed only in rumor. 

“Understood,” Suzaku had accepted. “And if they are good?”

Genbu had reprimanded, “If they are good, we would not be hearing of them.”

Suzaku carefully doesn’t think about the number of days he has already spent on the Black Knight.

\----

It is surprisingly easy to climb rigging, Suzaku discovers a few hours into his first investigation of the Black Knight and its crew. The texture is not unlike bark on a tree, and the ropes are well maintained enough that his injured shoulder isn’t a detriment. He settles beneath the crow’s nest, a formless shadow to the guards on deck if they deigned to look up. 

Living on the water has never appealed to Suzaku, who was raised on wood and stone beneath his feet. But the gentle movement of the tide rocks him to a nauseous sleep, and when he awakens he is shocked to see that the shoreline is out of sight. His view of the deck is broken by the long lengths of the sails, but a group of nearly thirty is gathered on deck in a group, and there is a man speaking. 

His hair is cut to his chin, straight even in the sea air-- which is admittedly making Suzaku’s curls more unruly-- and as dark as ink. Suzaku cannot see his face, but his voice is deep. 

The mistake Suzaku makes is leaning forward to see if he can view the man’s face, because the movement ripples through the rigging and against the direction of the gentle breeze. Before he can think to move, the crew’s eyes are fixed to his position.

“Come down,” the man orders.

Suzaku obeys, because he is outnumbered and his usual methods of escape (above their heads or after killing all witnesses) is unfortunately not an option. He lands without a sound on the deck and is quietly pleased when some of the crew jolt back from him, not expecting the speed of his descent.

A blade is pointed at him by a red haired woman, and he takes in her fiercely unamused eyes before turning to the man with the deep voice--

Who is startlingly attractive, Suzaku thinks. He has pale skin-- very pale skin for someone living on the open seas-- and eyes a color he had thought reserved only for wisteria and dye makers. Perhaps Suzaku’s match in height, but his limbs are slender and untrained; Suzaku’s eyes flick back to the red haired woman and sees the strength of muscle in her arms.

A strange crew, where the women are more capable of killing than the men, Suzaku notes.

“Your name,” the man says to him.

“I would like to meet the captain,” Suzaku asks instead. “I would be happy to share such a thing with him.”

Laughter draws his eyes to a green-haired woman. The man looks irritated, a scowl coming across surprisingly plump lips. She approaches, carrying something dark that Suzaku can’t quite make out of his peripheries, and flourishes it at the man with a mocking, “I told you people expect it.”

The man sighs, accepts the-- the hat, Suzaku sees, and places it atop his head with exaggerated slowness. It is not like a typical pirate’s hat, Suzaku thinks, the dark purple and black coming out into more spikes than a hat needs, surely. He is so distracted by the odd shape of the hat that it takes him a moment too long to process what the woman had said.

“Ah,” he realizes aloud, “you’re the captain.” The crew laughs around him, all except the woman holding the blade against his throat and the captain before him.

“It certainly appears so.” The man agrees genially. “Now, your name.”

“Suzaku,” Suzaku says. Younger than he expected, but regal enough that the rumor of him being a prince might actually be true. “And yours?”

“Lelouch,” the captain responds. He tips the hat upwards, reminiscent of the gesture the Britannian gentleman are so fond of. “Now, then, Suzaku-- what are you doing on my ship?”

“He’s a ninja,” the red-haired woman says. Her threatening tone speaks poorly for the future state of Suzaku’s neck, and he is careful to remain still. “He’s working for one of the lords, and no use to us.”

“Kallen,” Lelouch acknowledges, “if you kill him now we’ll never know why he’s here.”

Suzaku freezes his urge to sidestep away. He hadn’t been aware that killing him had been on the table already. 

“Well,” Lelouch says. “Perhaps we should relocate. There’s no meaning in delaying the crew from their duties.” His tone is just shy of an order, and the group around them dissolves, spreading over the deck. 

The blade never leaves his throat. Not as he follows Lelouch and the green haired woman into a room with a wide table, and certainly not when he sits across from Lelouch, within a lunge’s length for the first time. 

“Introductions are in order, I think,” Lelouch says. “The lovely lady behind you is Kallen, our ship’s Quartermaster; beside me is C.C., our Sailing Master.” The green-haired woman tips her head in acknowledgment. “And before us, we have Suzaku, of an unknown clan of ninja.”

“Probably Sumeragi or Kururugi, with those eyes,” Kallen informs.

“Is that so,” Lelouch says. “Well, either way he’ll be on our ship at least until we get to the next port--”

“We could always throw him overboard,” C.C. offers. “I doubt anyone would raise an objection.” 

Lelouch smiles, a lovely and venomous thing. “Well, Suzaku Sumeragi-or-Kururugi: do you prefer land or sea?”

“Land,” he responds immediately.

“Fair enough,” Lelouch agrees. “Place all of your weapons on the table.” It takes but a short moment even with Kallen restricting his movement, disarming and arming a daily routine. C.C. collects his items in a black case, and Kallen gestures for him to stand. 

Suzaku nearly forgets to breathe with how quickly Lelouch enters his personal space, running fingers up and down his torso and limbs. He removes a pack of rations, Suzaku’s medical kit, and a short blade hidden in the small of Suzaku’s back. Careful fingers linger on the bulk of his wrapped left shoulder, but the wince that Suzaku gives is apparently sufficient for him to leave it alone.

Apparently satisfied, Lelouch adds the items to C.C.’s case, and then orders: “Remove your shirt.”

He eyes the two women in the room. There is far too much amusement on C.C.’s face to not know how he is feeling, and he can feel his hairs raising with embarrassment. 

“It’s nothing personal,” Lelouch says in what Suzaku thinks is  _ supposed _ to be a soothing tone, “We simply can’t have you hiding anything.”

“In front of the women?” His voice is closer to level. 

Lelouch stares. “How else?”

_ This is it _ , Suzaku thinks.  _ This is how it will end _ . Stranded in a pirate’s ship, disarmed, and killed because he refuses to strip. Without a note or any evidence, his clan will think him a deserter; all his honor lost to his own damnable whim. 

C.C. snorts. “It’s not like it’s anything we haven’t seen before. Besides, it’s not like we’ll be ogling you.”

The mortified sound that Lelouch releases in response is the most comforting thing Suzaku has heard since he woke up on the ship, and he removes his shirt slowly. The mobility of his shoulder is restricted by heavy swatches of bandage, but even through the crisp linen he can smell blood. Kallen moves her blade away from his neck to allow him to move more freely, but he isn’t foolish enough to think that she won’t run him through the moment he appears suspicious. 

Finally shirtless, he stands straight and meets Lelouch’s eyes-- which dip downwards in quick assessment, lingering, before holding his own. Suzaku widens his stance experimentally, watches Lelouch’s eyes drop again and pink come to his face in a flattering way.

“Looks like a bad injury,” Kallen says, and Suzaku hums in agreement. “The kind I’m not used to seeing on your kind unless they’re dead.”

“Only so many ways you can avoid a fatal strike,” he offers. 

She scoffs. “That deep of an injury, you weren’t moving out of the way. When was the last time you disinfected it?”

“Last night,” he responds, “but as long as it doesn’t get wet it should be good for another day.”

“C.C.” Lelouch states. It’s incongruous, and Suzaku stares at him for a moment.

The woman taps the table with a single finger. “No ports within a day, unless we want to turn back. If he doesn’t mind us dropping him off cliff-side, there’s a wave-cut notch we can use about a half-day from here; it shouldn’t slow us down by more than a few hours.”

“We’ll alter our course, unless either of you have any objections,” Lelouch says.

“It’s better to have him off the ship quickly,” Kallen agrees. “A wound like that is going to be prone to festering.”

“Understood, captain,” C.C. says, and leaves the room without another glance at Suzaku. The black case goes with her.

His shirt is returned to him. Suzaku dresses quickly, not interested in staying barechested any longer. The captain’s response is--  _ interesting _ , but something he’ll revisit later, hopefully without either of the ladies involved.

“Very good,” Lelouch says after a moment of silence.

Kallen orders. “Sit.” Suzaku sits, and Kallen finally sheathes her blade before seating herself next to him.

“Now then,” Lelouch says, “what is it that you’ve come onto our ship to do?”

Suzaku scans his face, then the faces of Kallen beside him. Frustratingly neutral, both of them. “I’m not really here on any official duty,” Suzaku admits. Personal investigation is normally limited to gossip and reconnaissance; being on the ship was an indulgence on Suzaku’s part. “Mostly curiosity.”

“A shame,” Lelouch sighs, “I thought you were going to be honest. Bind him as comfortably as you can, with that shoulder. We’ll drop him off when we reach land.”

When Kallen pulls his arms backwards, Suzaku blinks. “That’s it?”

Lelouch smiles, charming. “We  _ could _ drop you off the side of the ship.”

\----

They kindly leave him in a platform water has worn on the side of a cliff with a bottle of alcohol no doubt meant as a disinfectant, but are not nice enough to return his belongings. 

The cliff takes him six hours to climb without use of one of his arms, and when he reaches the top he imagines he can still see the ship, wavering on the horizon. It vanishes with his next blink.

But he thinks about it that night when he is biting through the cloth of his shirt at the sting of alcohol against the meat of his torn up shoulder. 

It takes Suzaku three days to return home on foot, traversing unfamiliar terrain. By the time Suzaku slips into his room, he has been gone for a twelve days.

No one questions his disappearance.

\-----

The second time is nearly as brief: 

Suzaku sits unbound under the deck for two days, fighting off nausea and the good natured jabs of two of the crew. The louder one, Tamaki, swears by a lemon remedy to reduce nausea but is unable to assist him in finding lemons. The quieter one whose curls are nearly as bad as his own, Ohgi, offers him a bucket every time he moves an inch; the care feels suffocating after the first few hours. 

In the night, when the crew has switched and the lights are dim, Suzaku hears the steps he has grown to associate with Lelouch-- soft steps with long strides, accompanied by the slip of his coat against the top of his boots. He feigns sleep as the captain crouches before him, taking care to prod his shoulder with gentle fingertips. 

It hurts, so Suzaku doesn’t suppress his flinch. 

Lelouch’s fingers retreat, and he tucks a small package into Suzaku’s shirt before departing, just as quietly. 

After he has finished counting to a thousand, the warmth of Lelouch’s fingers has long faded and he unravels the cloth wrapped parcel that was left. A shaving of ginger root, carefully peeled and boiled. 

Suzaku places it under his tongue and waits, stares into the darkness like it will explain the strange captain.

He awakens to Tamaki complaining that they are changing course, but reassuring Suzaku that the village they docking in is well-known for their candies and is well-connected to the major cities in Japan.

This time when Suzaku returns home, he gifts the younger students sweets that taste like the sea.

\-----

The third time that they catch him on the Black Knight, the crew seems to accept that Suzaku is an occasional if random passenger. He is prepared this time, a bag of lemons on his hip and a small satchel of boiled ginger tucked into his shirt sleeves.

As always, they search him and remove his weaponry. C.C.’s lips quirk when she discovers the ginger, and although he can’t decipher the look she gives him, he is allowed to keep it. The lemons are treated with equal humor, and he hears Kallen laugh for the first time. 

It has been two months since he has seen them last, but he has heard of their exploits and not a few of the men who greet him are injured. His shoulder, in comparison, has grown itchy with healing skin and no longer bleeds at the touch. 

It is easy to offer his assistance, to smile at Kallen when she judges his shoulder. It is easier to agree when she tells Lelouch she will be commandeering his stowaway to scrub the decks. 

If there is one thing that Suzaku learns as a swab on the Black Knight, it is that seabirds are vindictive and carry far too much waste. The ocean is a great expanse, water stretching from horizon to horizon, and yet their projectile waste lands on the deck without fail. The responsible birds settle on the yards and watch him from above: waiting for a clean slate to once again leave their mark on. It is not long before he starts considering whether the crew would like fresh bird meat-- they are small but lean, and if Suzaku has use of a knife he surely catch enough of the winged rats to feed the crew. 

Kallen catches him staring at the yards for a moment too long, and she fails to hide her snickering as she orders two of the other swabs to teach him how to strip the waste from the wood. 

Suzaku does not gain the skill during this particular visit to the pirates.

But by the end of each day his palms are sore and warm to the touch like after a session of swordplay, and when the sun sets the stars are like beacons in the sky.

\----

Two weeks after Suzaku boards, they dock at a small port town called Ashford. It is one of the few that have been untouched by the Britannian privateers: a mixed city, one where Japanese and Britannian citizens openly trade and barter. 

He disembarks with a small group, among which are C.C. and a demurely dressed Kallen. Her bright red hair is left down, draping around her face femininely, and the ends brush the top of a yellow dress edged with red and white frill. Suzaku coughs and moves his eyes away from the large expanse of skin that is visible above the bustier of the dress. 

When they enter the market, the colorful tarps that shade the merchants are eye-catching and the scent of the rich oils and spices is enough to make his nose itch. The novelty of the environment, after so many days on the sea, is enough that Suzaku almost misses the pickpocket that C.C. trips. 

When he turns, she tosses his bag of boiled ginger at him carelessly while ruffling the pickpocket’s hair; she drops a few coins into the boy’s hand and waves him away.

Ahead, Kallen is bartering with a merchant for medical supplies in the way that Suzaku has only ever associated with kunoichi and women of the red light district. The man’s eyes are roaming over her exposed skin with an obvious greed, and Suzaku suppresses the urge to step between them. 

It is obvious enough that this is where the Black Knight will leave him, this time, and so Suzaku wanders the stalls. He lets his eyes linger, and then his fingers, uncertain of what he should bring home this time; the mothers of the Kururugi clan have been slipping him coins before these journeys, to repay him for the gifts he inevitably carries home. 

A white locket in the shape of a heart catches his eye; a gold four-leaf clover is placed inside within a thin gold border, and two small pink gems accent the space. It hangs on a slim gold chain, easy enough to imagine on a pale neck. 

“They say four leaf clovers are lucky.” 

He lifts his eyes to look at the booth’s manager, a woman with curls of gold and a sweet smile. 

“Four leaves are important,” she says, “For faith, hope, love, and luck. Every four leaf clover is a wish and an amulet for protection.”

“It’s lovely,” Suzaku says.

“It is, isn’t it?” The woman boasts. “You wouldn’t believe that the artist is blind-- it took me a long time to convince her to let me put some of her work up.”

Suzaku lets his eyes linger on the careful detail of the locket. “She is very talented,” he agrees. But blindness is not the weakness in crafting that so many believe; loss of vision bring enhancement and refinement of the other senses.

“You came in with the Black Knight, right?” The woman says, quieter.

“I did,” Suzaku agrees. “But I won’t be leaving with them-- they’ll be dropping me off here.”

It is difficult to say what changes about her smile. But the bow of her lips is warmer, and she laughs outright. “We finally get to meet their mysterious guest!”  

“Guest?” 

She waves him off, eying him up and down in obvious assessment. “You certainly do look like the type of rogue to keep them entertained. Especially in some more  _ intimate _ matters, hm?”

Suzaku is almost certain that she is insinuating--

“Well, the dear captain needs it, anyway!” The woman pats his left shoulder, and Suzaku flinches away. She continues, “You’re not one for teasing, I guess. My mistake!”

“Milly admitting she’s wrong,” a familiar voice cuts in, Kallen nudging Suzaku to the side with her hip. “That’s rare when she’s in good form.” She hands the large package over to Milly, who tucks under a side table without delay.

“Always nice to see you, Kallen!” Milly returns. “Will you be here long this time?”

Kallen shakes her head. “No, we just came to restock and to drop  _ this one  _ off.” Her familiar gestures are strange when garbed in such a fine linen.

“You won’t visit her?” Milly asks, voice dipping into something soft.

The red haired woman shakes her head. “She won’t know the difference.”

“Well,” Milly says, after a pause, “Look how rude we’re being, ignoring the attractive young man you all have been playing with.” She gestures at him, previous heaviness dissipating into the scented air.

“You’d be surprised how much attention he’s been getting,” Kallen says, “it would do him some good to be ignored.”

The levity feels like a stone in his gut, like a shout in his ear of duty and his own lack of ability, like the words that creep into his head in the still moments; he tenses and Kallen’s eyes are sharp when they evaluate his stiff posture.

She leans forward, flicks her finger against the white pendant he had been eying. “How much for this one?” She asks Milly, and counts out the coins from a pouch at her waist. The transaction is completed in a few short moments, no attempt at bartering made. Then Suzaku watches, bewildered, as she drops the pendant in the air before him. 

He catches it on reflex, careful not to damage the fine object.

“There, done.” Kallen announces. “Our dear captain would like to express his gratitude for the work you have done while on our ship, and you have now been compensated for your time.” She stares at Milly while the words leave her lips. “Besides, you seem like the sort of person to need extra luck.”

Suzaku lets his fingers slack enough that the gold chain slips further, watches it shine in the afternoon sun. 

It reminds him of the gleam of the sun off the waves, blinding and rich. 

\-----

During his time as a swab, Suzaku learns that the Black Knight is a magnet for Britannian Imperial ships. Two out of three times when a ship is spotted on the horizon it will attack them, and the regular exchange of cannon fire is starting to damage his hearing. 

It doesn’t help that he is shuffled off the deck any time they engage in battle, as if he is some brat to be protected, a guest to indulge.

Suzaku  _ earned _ his right to carry the weapons they took from him, and is lethal enough without them to prove it. 

The fourth time it happens in the span of two weeks, Suzaku disobeys the order to go below deck. There are enough crew members rushing about that no one can confirm his disobedience. 

But the ship firing upon them is Britannian.

And despite the fact that Suzaku is acting as crew for the Black Knight, the fact remains that he is not a pirate. The tentative treaty between the Japanese and Britannian governments is too fragile at this stage. If he is called a pirate while at the feet of a Japanese official, the careful plans of peace will unravel beneath them. 

Britannia has already displayed its naval prowess, the raids on their coastal towns nothing more than quiet reminders to the Japanese government of their strength and dissatisfaction with their compensation. And in turn, the Japanese government has turned a blind eye, allowing them to take what they wish from the poorer communities because it is better than disturbing the sand; they fear the viper that could lie beneath, preferring the evil they can see and plan for.

Irritation makes Suzaku dig his nails into his palms.

A Britannian officer boards the ship near Suzaku, and it is instinct to kick away his blade and steal the man’s dagger; it is frustration that makes him drive the dagger through the man’s chest, and the spray of blood over him is foul in comparison to the sea air. Two more Britannians run at him after shaking off their shock, and Suzaku steals the sword off of the first he kills with a dagger through the eye. A kick to the throat incapacitates the second officer, and the next he sees receives a stab through the abdomen. 

This is not his role, Suzaku thinks, even as he kills another officer. He is not meant to be  _ this _ , this murderer in the light of the noon sun, defending his people by slaying their subjugators one at a time. He is a shadow, a monster under the bed at night, a nightmare of anyone who should try to doublecross his master. 

A blade swings over his head as he curls forward and pushes off of the desk, letting the blade bury itself in one of the Britannian’s allies. An elbow strike to the flat of the blade snaps it, and Suzaku cuts the first man’s neck while he staggers. 

Blood is dripping off of Suzaku’s clothing and onto the deck. It’s pooling onto the wood, and Suzaku thinks that it will be a pain to scrub clean. He watches it seep out of the broken bodies of the men around him, and wishes it were not so familiar.

The hair on the back of his neck abruptly rises, and he turns to hear a pistol shot and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The smell of gunpowder is heavy and bitter, mixing in with the iron taint of blood. 

Suzaku turns to the shooter, and meets concerned eyes set in a displeased face.

“You were supposed to be below deck,” Lelouch says.

\-----

The renown of the Kururugi clan was enough to give them their pick of the officials to serve, men who would gladly pay their weight in gold to have the iron-clad guard of rumor.

When the Prime Minister entered office, he made rounds through the ninja clans, sampling them as though to judge their skill the same way a man might try local liquor. He had been a poor man, the Prime Minister, married into a wealthy family and happy to take advantage of the benefits his new station allowed.

Genbu has no respect for the man, but skill alone was not enough to feed the mouths of their clansmen.

It was for this reason alone that Suzaku, who had proved his worth in bloodshed but not protection, was assigned to be the Prime Minister’s guard.

Three weeks later, his shoulder was torn apart by a shotgun blast; four weeks later, he awakened to his father commending him for receiving the Prime Minister’s regard even as he expressed his disappointment at the crippling injury; five weeks later, Suzaku was put on indefinite probation with return contingent upon his full recovery. 

And six weeks later, Suzaku heard about a group of fisherman turned pirates and a stolen Britannian ship.

\-----

He scrubs himself with sea water, until it stops running murky brown, and then helps carry stones to weight the bodies they are throwing into the sea. 

After, he cleans the deck with a little too much force, sits through a rambunctious meal, and wonders what he has done. In the dark with no one watching, he hooks the clover-shaped pendant to a belt loop-- he’ll need the luck. The thin gold chain is tossed gently into the sea, Suzaku’s offering to a deity of the sea, if one exists.

\----

The feeling doesn’t disappear, not until the call of a hostile ship on the horizon echoes over the deck and Suzaku sees Lelouch, standing against the cabin wall with a sword in hand.

He steps closer to Lelouch, until their breaths mingle and he can already imagine the smell of blood, the sticky scent of gunpowder on Lelouch’s fine coat. 

“It’s a choice,” Lelouch says, quiet.

The sound Suzaku makes is garbled, between a laugh and a sigh. “One I have already made.”

Lelouch stares at him, silent of a moment, and then pulls Suzaku forward to tuck his face against the collar of the captain’s coat. Suzaku breathes it in, that violent scent. Above them, he can hear the men shouting, the first sounds of cannonfire. 

Lelouch turns his face against Suzaku’s, lips brushing his ear like the gentlest of kisses. He says nothing, just breathing, and a moment later, steps away.

He leaves the blade against the wall, and Suzaku’s fingers wrap around the hilt of  _ his  _ sword; the one he left the first time they caught him on their boat, that was crafted for him when he turned of age.

Suzaku heads onto the deck.

\-----

When Suzaku pulls himself from the captain’s bed, he sees Lelouch sitting on the floor near their clothes. The captain is dressed only in his smallclothes and the lovemarks Suzaku pressed into his skin. 

The captain is rolling the clover-shaped pendant between his fingers, thinking.

Suzaku swallows. “Lelouch--”

“--vi Britannia,” the cap-- the prince of Britannia says, when he finally looks at Suzaku’s face. There’s nothing like pride in the lines of his smile.

Suzaku leaves the ship at the next port.

\----

One of the other swabs starts to bleed from old wounds. He laughs it off when Suzaku asks, tells him to watch his corners.

The other swab’s limbs and gums have grown swollen, the next time Suzaku boards the Black Knight.

The time after that, the swab is gone.

\-----

“You not just here out of curiosity anymore,” Lelouch says, against Suzaku’s cheek. He rests their cheeks together, tries not to think about the bodies sinking to the bottom of the sea, disease-ridden. Tomorrow Kallen will sell the dead’s things amongst the crew, hang new hammocks to replace the ones that accompanied their owners into the deep waters. 

For now, Suzaku slides his fingers against Lelouch’s collarbone. He slips his hand around the base of Lelouch’s skull, tucking the captain’s head into his good shoulder and thinks,  _ if necessary, kill the leader _ \--

Lelouch bites him, and Suzaku shudders. They fall together, clothes and facades and tears; they slip together, lips and skin and hopes. The air is thick with salt, but Suzaku licks it from Lelouch’s cheeks to let the taste linger in his mouth.

“You’re taking a risk,” Suzaku says, as they rut together. He twists his hands around Lelouch’s hips, bites at the place where neck and shoulder meet, suckles hard enough to make the skin bloom beneath his lips. 

“Living on a ship is a risk,” Lelouch pants, “this ship quite a bit more than others, I’d say.”

Suzaku hums against the mark, licks it and lifts himself up to meet Lelouch’s eyes. “I don’t know your full name,” he says, because he’s a hypocrite, in the end.

Lelouch turns his head, fast breaths coming against Suzaku’s wrist. “Is it important?”

“Knowledge is power,” Suzaku offers, and lets Lelouch pull him down into a wet kiss.

They maneuver around his shoulder clumsily; the old injury frustrating and sensitive. Lelouch slips his hands over Suzaku’s toned arms and belly, fingers catching on the grooves of muscle. Suzaku uses them to cage him in, to pin this frustrating captain to the bed and plunder his mouth.

They rut together, dripping and wet, and Suzaku presses his fingers into Lelouch’s narrow hips tightly enough that he can see the skin start to bruise. 

\----

Suzaku returns, bites apologies into Lelouch’s coat while the captain takes his pleasure. 

“Kururugi,” he whispers into the space-between, after, a peace offering after his flight.

Lelouch presses his lips into the scarred flesh of Suzaku’s shoulder.

\----

Fighting with pirates is noisy, a group activity rather than the solo endeavor the Suzaku is used to. He buries his kunai into an exposed belly, gutting a Britannian who knows only how to swing forward. Suzaku stumbles over a body when he tries to dodge the falling weight, grits his teeth when the dead fool falls onto his crippled shoulder.

There’s a man looking at him, pulling up his gun, and Suzaku wonders if this is how it will end-- if the crew of the Black Knight will find him shot, pinned under the corpse of a dead fool and staining the blasted deck with disgraced blood.

The man falls; and a moment later Suzaku sees Kallen’s saber, glistening red. She kicks the dead weight off of him, corner of her mouth twisted in humor even as she draws her gun to fire once, twice. “Taking a break, honored guest?”

Suzaku brushes off the sense of dread clinging to his clothing. “I’ve been doing so much, I rather thought I deserved one.”

Kallen laughs. “You work hard because you’re a terrible swab.”

Suzaku shrugs, frowning a bit when his injured shoulder lags in the movement. “You’d have thrown me overboard already if I was that terrible.” He catches another officer with a blade, flips the man over to clear the fighting space.

“As if our captain would allow that,” Kallen groans, stepping on flesh to pull her blade free. “At this rate we’ll be stuck with an awful swab until you die and leave us for good.”

Her tone is oddly affectionate, so Suzaku doesn’t argue the point. It’s freeing, to laugh in the midst of bloodshed, to exist under the shining sun.

\----

The sea is stretching out before them, red-gold with the setting sun. Lelouch isn’t looking at him, eyes focused above-- focused on the stars gently pinning the night sky in place. “Well, Suzaku Kururugi: do you prefer land or sea?”

Suzaku rolls the answer on his tongue, lets it melt on his tongue like a salted candy. 

“Sea.”

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. There was a joke about being rated R here, but AO3’s rating system worked against me /shakes fist
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate and am motivated by comments if you would like to leave one. At the same time, replying gives me a lot of stress-- so if you don't receive a reply, please know that I treasure your words very much. <3


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